


A friend to the 'end'

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Non-Consensual Violence, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald often skirts consequences for his actions at every turn, but crossing Jim was a mistake especially when Jim decides to make a concerted effort to be a friend much to Oswald's reluctance to his definition thereof. WARNING! Contains non-sexual spanking! Takes place at the end of episode "Welcome Back, Jim Gordon"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assault in the 1st degree

Happy Valentine's Day to me!! =D My delightful hubby and I worked out a fic idea where Jim decides to confront Oswald with the use of the term 'friend' and how that all plays out for our dear Oswald *evil grin* This is the 1st of at least four chapters that we plot bunnied, and he (ever loving husband that he is) wrote out for me! So please do enjoy... even if Oswald surely won't! LOL! I'm such a meanie! ;) *cackles*

 

 

Jim Gordon was seething. A fellow officer of the law, a dirt-bag but still a cop, had gone to his knees in sobbing apology to him, begging that he spare the his wife and child. The fear had been palpable. The very air hung with the sense of dread the other man had felt towards him.

Jim had never wanted that, and the very fact that it had happened turned his recent victory over a corrupt cop to ash in his mouth. He glanced up, taking in the sign above him, a stylized fish skeleton that declared the club to be Fish Mooney’s place.

Well, it had been Fish’s place, anyways. Last time he had visited he had found Oswald Cobblepot had claimed the place as his own, now that Fish was on the run from Oswald’s secret boss, Falcone. He entered and glanced around, noting that Oswald still hadn’t opened the place to the public yet, he and his chief henchman sitting at the far end of the club.

Oswald saw him coming from across the room and smiled as he stood, “James! So good to see you; my associate informed me that a package containing the evidence you needed had been delivered to you. Did you find the contents useful?”

Jim strode up to Oswald and stabbed his finger into the thin man’s chest, causing him to back up a step and alarming his thug, who stood up halfway before Oswald waved him off. “You’ve got some nerve talking to me like we’re best pals when you lied to my face like that.”

Oswald raised his hands in a docile gesture, “Please, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jim ground his teeth as he ran a hand back through his short brown hair. The way he clenched and unclenched his fists obviously unsettled the darker haired man, who took another step away from him. “Don’t play dumb with me; you told me that no one was going to get hurt.”

Oswald shook his head, “And no one was!” He smiled nervously, “My friend here just made some empty threats is all; he certainly wouldn’t have acted on them.” Oswald clapped his hands together like a person at prayer, “After that near-death experience where you saved my life James Gordon I have been a changed man; I wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Jim stared at him intensely for a long moment, and the silence saw a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Oswald’s pale face, “Fine.”

Oswald visibly released a sigh of relief and continued to smile at Jim in his odd way, “Now that you’re here though why don’t you have a glass of wine with us, or perhaps you are a bourbon man?”

James shook his head, “No thanks.” He paused, “There is something you could do for me, though. I would consider myself in your debt if you could.”

Oswald didn’t hide his excitement at the prospect very well, and he steepled his fingers, “Please, that’s what friends are for! How can I be of assistance?”

James stared at him for another moment before continuing, “I need a list of the cops in my precinct who are on the mob’s payroll, or the governors for that matter.” He lifted a finger as Oswald started to speak, cutting him off, “I want all of them, even the ones working for Falcone.”

Oswald licked his lips, “That last part is tricky, you see, Maroni is one thing, but if I play my cards against Falcone this early it could get … messy for me.”

Jim smiled at him, a tight, humorless smile, “Don’t worry, I just need to know who’s who, I won’t move against someone working with Falcone without being sure you’re clear. Trust me.”

Oswald still seemed timid to the idea, but he desperately wanted Jim to work with him, and if this was the only way, he could accept what risk came with it. He smiled as he thought on it; actually, this was all according to plan, and it couldn’t have gone better.

He held out a hand to Jim, “You have a deal, James! And I really must say it really is a pleasure to be working with you again…”

Oswald flinched as Jim squeezed his hand painfully during their handshake, “And no one gets hurt, of course. If I find out someone was even threatened with violence I’m coming back to arrest you, Oswald.”

Penguin pulled his hand and rubbed it as he did his best to assure Jim, “Of course, James. Do you want me to send my man by with the names?”

Jim frowned, shaking his head, “No. Having him approach me in the middle of the station was stupid; I’ll give you my e-mail.” James pulled out a flip notebook and scrawled his e-mail on it, handing it to Oswald.

Oswald took the paper, smiling widely, “Yes, that’s very wise; I’ll be sure to make use of this in the future.”

Jim nodded, “Good, remember; I need everyone, down to the last one.”

Penguin waved dismissively, “Of course! You’ll be hearing from me again very soon my friend!”

Gordon seemed to be satisfied with the assurance and stepped towards the exit, “See you soon, Oswald.”

Cobblepot nodded vigorously, “Oh, I do hope so; we always enjoy your visits, Detective.”

Oswald was still smiling as his thug stood and approached him. As soon as they heard the club door closed he spoke up, “Boss; you really gonna turn on Falcone like that? That’s… ballsy.”

Penguin waved his concern away, chuckling, “Oh my no; the Detective is a very naïve man. He doesn’t have any way to know if I’ve given him all the names he wants. I’ll just flag some unaffiliated dirty cops as working for Falcone and he’ll be none the wiser.”

His henchman smiled, “Yeah that’s smart boss. I should’ve realized you had this figured out; you want me to do that thing we talked about?”

Oswald nodded, “Indeed; make sure you keep it tidy.”

His thug nodded, “Will do.” The crony moved to the rear of the club, preferring to exit inconspicuously.

Cobblepot smiled to himself as he moved to leave via the front door. Yes, he supposed he did have it all figured out. It wouldn’t be too long before he had put himself at the very top.

Once the dust settled from the war waged by men who thought themselves his betters, he, Oswald Cobblepot, would be the most powerful gangster in all of Gotham. He would rise from the ashes and show them all who was the cleverest.

They would all realize too late that they had been deceived, and that every calamity had actually all been his plan, all along.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the shadow of the person standing behind the column next to the main entrance doors until Jim spoke up, “So I’m naïve, huh?”

Oswald froze with his hand still on the door as he turned to see Jim standing behind him, the other man’s arms crossed over his chest, “Detective! I-I didn’t realize you were still here…”

Jim simply stared at him evenly, “That’s kind of the point. You told your goon that you planned on sending me some false information…”

Penguin turned to regard him, “Oh that… I was just telling him that so he would stay in line; can’t have him knowing I plan to betray Falcone, you know, he’s paid help and I wouldn’t want to risk him turning on me.”

Gordon nodded, “I’m sure. There’s something you should know about me, Oswald.” He took a step closer and Oswald instinctively took a step back, bumping into the door, “I didn’t make it to Detective on charm alone; I’m pretty good at telling when someone is lying to me.”

Cobblepot smiled nervously, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean; I would never…”

Jim’s hand suddenly shot out, snatching Oswald’s bicep as the detective hauled him back into the club. “Enough games. I’m fed up with your greasy attempts to slide out from under everything you do.”

Gordon paused in the center of the club. He hadn’t actually planned out how he was going to interrogate Oswald; he only knew he was reluctant to use Harvey’s favored tactic of unlawful assault, “Your friend won’t be back will he? Should give us some time to talk…”

Oswald winced at Jim’s tight grip on his arm, “Ow… James, your overreacting… please, let me explain…”

Jim frowned, watching Oswald’s reaction and knowing that just talking wasn’t going to be enough. Cobblepot was going to lie until he was blue in the face. Something about the way Oswald whined as he held him and his reaction to the discomfort of his grip gave him an idea, though.

Gordon pulled Oswald over to the wall, where a padded bench offered what he was looking for. Sitting with his back to the wall, Jim hauled Oswald down hard, forcing him off balance so that he fell across Jim’s lap.

Oswald looked back over his own shoulder, a confused expression painted on his face as Jim grabbed ahold of his pants, ripping them down, “W-whoa! Wait… what are you doing?!”

Jim wasn’t going to have to explain what he was doing to the smaller man, though; they both knew what he was about to do. Panic played over Oswald’s face as he suddenly started kicking and swinging his arms, trying to worm out of Jim’s lap, “W-wait, wait!”

Gordon worked to hold the desperate man in place, eventually getting him into a vulnerable position where he held Penguin’s torso closely, wrapping his own legs around Oswald’s so that he was effectively pinned.

Being so helpless only seemed to escalate Oswald’s look of anxiety, and as he watched Jim’s hand raise into the air he quickly squalled out, “Stop! You can’t do this to me!”

Jim didn’t reply, but a moment later his hand came down hard on Oswald’s backside and words weren’t needed to convey the answer given. Cobblepot twisted and yowled in the other man’s lap, but Jim had a firm grip on him and he wasn’t going to be wriggling free.

In a torrent of sharp stinging slaps Jim rained pain upon Oswald’s exposed vulnerability and Penguin couldn’t stop the stinging tears from emerging in his eyes; tears of pain, yes, pain he had never before in his life felt, but even more so humiliation.

Oswald screamed at Jim, “I thought we were friends!”

Jim surprised him by replying, “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about that ever since you first suggested it. You have to know a cop like me and a seedy criminal little punk like you can only ever be friends if a few things change…”

Oswald gasped; he had been trying to put on a strong face but he had to face the music: he had no tolerance for pain whatsoever. Even as he struggled against it he felt the tears of his prolonged humiliation escaping his eyes and further damaging his already wrecked pride.

It didn’t help that every time Jim struck him he released a pitiful yelp often followed by a sad whimper. He didn’t want to make these sounds, he just couldn’t help himself; Jim had already crossed his rather low pain threshold.

“W-what change do you need; m-maybe we can talk about it?” He choked out, more than ready to make whatever deal was needed to end the awful scenario. He glanced back over his own shoulder and saw how ridiculous he looked sprawled over Jim’s lap and his face turned beat red with shame.

Jim recited his edicts with each swat; as if to emphasize his demands with threat of force should Oswald fail him, “First I’m going to need you to stop lying. Fess up, now.”

Oswald’s mind whirred as he tried to figure out how he could convince Jim that what he had said was the truth, but the repetitive sting that Jim continued to administer was more than distracting, and the longer it went on the less clearly he could think.

He need it to stop A.S.A.P. so after a few moments he went with the fastest recourse; the truth. “I’m sorry, I did lie! But you have to understand… Falcone w-would kill me if I b-betrayed him!”

Jim paused and Oswald went limp as he took a shuddering breath of relief at the respite, “Finally. I should’ve known this would work; you’ve gone your whole life without having to face consequence, haven’t you?”

Oswald hissed, offended, “I’m not some little kid! And I have paid dearly; I walk with a limp now because of Mooney!”

Jim shook his head sadly, “And you didn’t learn much for it, just like you didn’t learn when you nearly died by my hands. You had a chance to start fresh and what did you do? You came back to Gotham.”

Oswald thrashed around, still uncomfortably aware that Jim hadn’t released him from his grasp, pounding his fists into the soft leather cushions of the bench, “Gotham is my home; my mother lives here!”

Jim nodded, “Yeah, I can tell you care for your mom. And when you talked about us being friends, I think you even believed it. These things make me think there might be hope for you…”

Without warning he started to swat Oswald again, as the other man shouted his surprise and pain; Cobblepot noting that it felt much worse now, his posterior feeling raw as it did, each slap seeming to amplify the next.

Oswald was completely broken after only a few seconds of this, and he screamed with every ounce of his being, “A-and… and?! What m-must I do?! Please!!”

Jim stopped again and Oswald lay rigidly on his lap, still tensed for the next blow as he breathed in ragged gasps. “Get me those names, all of them. You want to be friends? Fine, we’re going to be friends whether you like it or not now, but I’m going to hold you to the same standards I hold all of my friends to.”

Oswald was weeping openly now, no longer able to keep his composure and no longer bothering to try. “You c-can’t tell me you treat all y-your friends like this!”

Jim shook his head, “No, if one of my friends did the things you did I’d probably beat the shit out of him more conventionally. Would you prefer that?”

Oswald went quiet and Jim continued, “You’re a special case, Oswald, so you get special treatment. I probably wouldn’t have gotten the idea if you weren’t such a brat…”

Oswald’s face darkened as he lowered his head, and Jim waited until they made eye contact again, “Don’t think I won’t do this again if you need it, but as long as you treat me like a real friend and don’t lie to me or try to use me, we can just put this behind us.”

Oswald burned with the need to get out of the humiliating position, so he nodded, “Alright… w-well noted.”

Jim released him and Oswald scurried to his feet, moving awkwardly to pull his pants back up. Penguin nodded towards the door, “I-I’d like it if you left now.”

Jim watched him for a while longer and stood up, Oswald flinching as he did so, “Alright. I’ll be waiting for that e-mail.” He reached out and squeezed Oswald’s shoulder, “I think we finally understand each other now.

The detective exited the building and Oswald jumped at the sound of the door closing. He still trembled all over and his heart still hammered away in his chest. What the hell just happened?


	2. Butter luck next time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald often skirts consequences for his actions at every turn, but crossing Jim was a mistake especially when Jim decides to make a concerted effort to be a friend much to Oswald's reluctance to his definition thereof. WARNING! Contains non-sexual spanking! Takes place at the end of episode "Welcome Back, Jim Gordon"

Chapter two: Butter luck next time (yes, I'm totally punning the chapter titles to be funny! LOL! :P)

Oswald was a very sore man, and that wasn’t merely attributed to the raw feeling on his posterior that made sitting an uncomfortable vocation. No, he had spent the entire evening and then the following morning brooding over what Jim had done.

When his man had asked him if everything was alright, Oswald only smiled and waved it off as nothing. After all, he wasn’t about to share what had happened in detail. Still, he thought, it might be wise to prevent any further foolishness from happening.

“The Detective and I are having a difference of opinion, lately, and I worry that he may become… violent in the future; if you could kindly keep yourself between us that might make things simpler in the future.”

The thug raised an eyebrow, “You worried about this guy? I thought he was a real straight arrow?”

Oswald gave him a begrudging smile, “Oh yes he is, but he was rather… sensitive the last time we spoke; even men like him can lash out when they think they are ‘in the right’.”

The henchman settled back into his chair, “Sure, boss. No problem.”

As if summoned by the conversation, Oswald glanced across the clubroom to see Jim entering the building. His heart immediately began to race, and he wiped at the sweat on his brow as he stood. He didn’t move to greet Jim as he had the last time, instead keeping the table between them, “Can I help you, Detective?”

Jim paused as he approached the table, wasting no time in announcing his reason for the visit. He held up a piece of paper, “The list of names you sent me last night.”

Oswald clenched his hands into fists and bit his tongue, trying to keep his composure even. He hadn’t done what Gordon had wanted, partly as revenge for the man’s attack the night before and partly because there would be no way for Jim to validate those names. At least… he thought there weren’t, were there?

After a long pause Cobblepot splayed his hands to each side, giving Jim his best innocent smile, “Yes! As promised… I hope you found what you were looking for, some of those na…”

Jim cut him off as he moved to sit at the table across from Oswald, “It’s not complete.”

Penguin froze. How could Jim have known that? He wracked his mind, trying to think if he had missed something, but nothing came up. He sat down again, doing his best to keep it friendly and casual and not let on to the fear Jim instilled in him, “I assure you that you’re mistaken; everything should be in order.”

The detective threw the paper on the table, leaning forward and watching Oswald carefully as he spoke, “Do you think you’re the only snitch I have in my pocket?”

Oswald paled feeling like his heart had stopped. He hadn’t heard of anyone else consorting with the detective, but of course they could have managed to do so in secret, and if they weren’t friendly to Oswald, they most certainly wouldn’t have shared their GPD connection, “Perhaps… who might this person be?”

Jim stood up and took a step around the table as he began to reply, but Oswald’s thug stood up simultaneously, moving between them and distracting Jim from his previous thought, “What’s this?”

Oswald smiled at him widely, “My friend here is just worried by your attitude that you might try to harm me. But we both know you wouldn’t hurt me, right friend? Why don’t you take a seat to put his mind at ease?”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed as he studied Cobblepot, “I see. Well, since we both know I won’t harm you, I’m going to ask this man to let us talk alone since I don’t know him and his getting into my face like this is rubbing me the wrong way.”

Oswald’s smile faltered, “Let’s not pretend you didn’t assault me the last time you were here, James. I just want a little insurance that we can talk without violence. There’s no reason we can’t keep this friendly…”

Jim shook his head, “Except me and this goon aren’t friends.”

He smiled, looking at the hired thug, “Cobblepot has a flare for the dramatic; I bet you he couldn’t even show you a bruise. Let’s call his bluff, eh? Show him a bruise, Oswald…”

Penguin paled; Jim knew full well that he couldn’t let his help know what Gordon had done to him. It would ruin him. Knowing he no longer had a chip to bargain with Oswald smiled weakly, “Guilty as charged… ahem… you can leave.”

His bruiser looked surprised, “Are you sure boss?”

Oswald nodded vigorously and his thug shrugged before departing the room, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, boss.”

Jim gestured at the decorations to the club as the other man left, “I see you’ve changed the place up; you didn’t wait long. How did you come to own this place, again?”

Oswald gave him a strained smile, “You’re skirting the topic, Detective. I asked you who you knew that told you such awful things about me.”

Gordon glanced back over his way, “I never told you that anyone said anything about you. What should I be worried about them saying?”

Oswald froze, not having expected that, “Well, I… assumed that someone must have said something since you said you feel that list was incorrect…”

Jim stepped up to Cobblepot, who backpedaled until he ran into a table, “I hinted that I have other snitches who work for me; I didn’t say anyone accused you of lying. Are you, Oswald? Are you lying to me?”

Oswald gulped, shaking his head hard, “Of course not! We’re friends, I wouldn’t dre…” his sentence was cut short with a yelp as Jim grabbed hold of his wrist, hauling him over to the familiar bench that they had parlayed over the last time.

Penguin’s feet dug into the carpet immediately and he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice, “No, wait! I swear, I’m telling you the tru…”

Once again he was unable to finish a sentence as Jim sat down, brutally pulling him down and off balance, so that Oswald fell into his lap. He spoke to the gangster as he pulled him up and locked him into a position that he would be unable to escape from, “You know, considering your line of work, you’re an awful liar.”

Oswald shrieked as Jim pulled his pants down, kicking and flailing within the other man’s grasp, “I’m not… a liar, I mean… I’m not lying!”

Gordon only shook his head, “Bull.” With a pronounced, sharp slapping sound he began to strike Oswald, who wailed in pain as he did so. “What part of the list is a lie, Cobblepot?”

Penguin bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut, but nothing he did could hide him from what was happening to him. He did his best to remove the warble from his voice and sound threatening, “Y-you better stop, o-or I’m gonna call my man in here… y-you force my hand!”

Jim grunted out a bitter laugh, “Go ahead. I have a feeling that once he takes one look at you like this your career is over.”

Oswald glanced back over his own shoulders to see what he already felt; his gangly form prostrated awkwardly over Jim’s lap, his pants around his ankles and his buttocks shining a red color where they weren’t bruised from the night before.

Those same bruises made him far more sensitive to the punishment he received than previously, and Oswald couldn’t stop the tears of helpless frustration from flooding his eyes. Jim was right; he couldn’t afford to be seen like this, and even being in this position was a threat to his work.

He bit his lip, trying not to cry out for fear of being heard from the kitchen, but Jim’s handiwork was far too painful, and Oswald’s rather low tolerance had already been breached. He cried out a few times as he struggled not to, his face red with effort.

Finally he succumbed to the only option he could see left, as it seemed that Gordon was remarkably good at cornering him into such decisions despite his cleverness, “Fine!”

Jim paused, his hand still raised, “Fine what?”

Oswald felt the tears trickle down his cheeks as he did his best to avoid letting the detective see them, “I didn’t give you a complete list… some of those names work for Don Falcone, and there are a few that aren’t on there at all.”

Penguin took deep breaths as his body shuddered, still tense with anticipation that Gordon might not yet be done with him. “H-how did you know?”

Jim shrugged, “I didn’t. I just noticed that no one on your list worked for Falcone and I knew that couldn’t be right.”

Oswald glanced back at him, shock in his teary eyes, “Then your other snitch…”

“…had nothing to do with it,” Jim finished for him, “I sort of tricked you, sorry. But in all fairness, you were lying to me.”

Oswald turned away sulkily, lying limply in Jim’s lap, “C-can I get up now?”

Jim grunted acknowledgement, “Sure.” The detective stood as Oswald pulled his pants back up awkwardly.

Cobblepot took a few steps away from Jim, his hands still rubbing his sore posterior, “Does this conclude our business, then?”

Gordon smiled at him, “For now, yes. You wanted to be friends with an honest cop, Oswald. Try the truth for a while and we can avoid the friendly ‘reminders’. I’ll be seeing you around.”

Oswald nodded dumbly, watching as Jim left and feeling an awful sense of déjà vu. How the hell had he let that happen twice?!


	3. Assume Nothing

Chapter 3  
Assume Nothing  
A few weeks passed and Oswald managed to put the events at the club behind him, at least to a degree. He moved forward in his plan to cement his position with Maroni, and things went very well indeed. Until of course one fateful evening when Maroni receives a phone-call from Fish Mooney…   
Oswald glared out of the bus window, his face set in a deep frown as he contemplated the extent that Fish had ruined him. Maroni had expectedly taken news of his betrayal poorly, and attempted to kill him.   
Oswald wasn’t angry at Maroni; he would have done the same to anyone that tried something like that to him, after all. He wasn’t even that angry with that bitch Fish; she was his enemy after all. He was more upset that he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.   
The way that Maroni had made such a show of loading that gun and placing it in that bag before they went into the cabin should have sent up a red flag, especially since he fully expected his now former boss was up to something.   
Maroni walking outside of the cabin like he did, leaving the gun behind when the whole point was that he shouldn’t be trusting Oswald with a gun should’ve also set him wondering. Oswald wished he had just handed Maroni the gun; he would have earned his trust again!   
But he hadn’t, he had even stupidly fired the weapon even after Maroni told him to his face that it was loaded with blanks. He had been so sure that he had him, and his hubris had nearly gotten him killed…   
Penguin ran one long-fingered hand along his smooth-shaven jaw as he continued to glare through the glass without seeing the wheat-fields and dairy farms they passed as the bus traversed the back roads of Gotham’s countryside.   
His mind was instead intently fixed on learning what he had done wrong so that he could be cleverer next time. Maroni wasn’t that smart; but he was clever enough and Oswald could only blame himself for getting drawn into such a simple ploy.   
He would have to be more careful from now on; he had already had three narrow escapes with certain death in the last year alone and that kind of thing couldn’t be healthy in the long term. He wasn’t off the hook with Maroni, either…   
Oswald let out a long sigh. He was going to have to ask Falcone for protection now; an annoyance seeing as Falcone himself was an obstacle to his own rise to power. Falcone didn’t know that, though, and as long as he was pretending to work for the man he might as well obtain more use of him…   
“No.”   
Oswald sputtered, “What… but Don Falcone, I’ve been nothing but…”   
“Deceptive,” Falcone cut him off, “as helpful as you have been to me you have remained only a conniving little snitch whose loyalty will always remain doubtful at best.”   
Cobblepot was stunned by the sudden turn of events and just stared in horror at the older man as Falcone sat himself down in a comfortable, expensive leather chair there in his manor, “But sir, I assure you…”   
Falcone shook his head as he interrupted yet again, “Your assurances mean nothing to me; a man like you probably lies to his mother. I won’t protect you from Maroni because the mess you’re in with him was entirely of your own design.”   
The crime boss continued as Oswald stood mortified in thought of what this meant for him, “I gave you the option to live if you could navigate around being shot by Gordon and you managed that well enough, so you’re just going to have to escape this noose too.”   
Penguin stuttered, “B-but James Gordon’s a straight-lace cop… Maroni is a boss with connections and he wants me dead! I used what I knew of Gordon to escape harm before, but I need protection to live now!”   
Falcone shrugged at him as he poured aged bourbon from a glass jar into a smaller drinking glass. He took a drink and replied after a moment, “I suggest you prove to me then that the first time with Gordon wasn’t luck. Survive this and prove to me that you’re clever enough to forgive your tendency to backstab your employers.”   
Oswald just stared at the other man with a sinking feeling of growing hopelessness. When it became clear with the prolonged silence that Falcone wasn’t interested in speaking on the matter any further Cobblepot gulped, trying to keep his escalating fear from his voice, “Of course, Mr. Falcone.”   
Jim Gordon looked at Oswald with obvious surprise, “Mr. Cobblepot… I didn’t expect you today.”   
Oswald nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck as he sidled over to talk to Jim, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I came to make you an offer that I think will prove mutually beneficial, detective.”   
Gordon glared at him, “Didn’t I mention before that the precinct isn’t the best place for us to talk?”   
Oswald shrugged apologetically, “I knew I’d find you here and time is of the essence… besides, I think you know with that list I gave you that most of these guys would rather pretend not to notice us talking anyways.”   
Jim shook his head, handing him a card, “Here’s my number; if you can’t just e-mail me pick up a phone. Since you’re already here though; what’s bothering you?”   
Penguin beamed a large smile at him as he spread his hands, “I thought it might be best for everyone if you and a group of police you trusted… say people who aren’t on that list… were to arrest Maroni.”   
Jim laughed, “And how long would he stay in jail? Fifteen minutes? Fifteen seconds?”   
Oswald spoke quickly, “That’s the thing, you see; I can give you more than enough evidence to make it hard for him to pay off enough people to keep himself out, maybe even get a real conviction.”   
The detective sat down at his desk, scratching at his chin with one finger, “Okay; so let’s say you can do that and I can get a team together; what are you getting out of this betrayal other than a potential death sentence?”   
Cobblepot looked a bit sheepish, “Well, he sort of discovered that I’m working for Falcone, so my side of this is that he doesn’t kill me…”   
Gordon sighed, leaning back into the chair, “So you want me to save you again…”   
“But you’ll also be making the arrest of a lifetime! Imagine how much easier things will be for you once Maroni is locked down…” Oswald wiped at a bead of sweat that trailed down his face.   
Jim nodded, “Fine. Just tell me how we should do it.”   
*******  
Maroni had been furious when Penguin had slipped free of him. He had searched that junk yard over several times, hoping that the skinny little man would be found hiding in a vehicle or under some garbage, but he had not had any luck.   
After that he had gone straight to Falcone, both to look for the little snitch and to confront the other boss about leaving a spy in his employ. Falcone had told him that Oswald was an independent rat, though, and that the man had only told Maroni a pack of lies.   
He went further and told Maroni that Penguin had come to him seeking protection, and that he had turned him down. Maroni wasn’t sure if he believed Falcone, but his new right-hand man told him that Falcone’s story added up.   
“The little bastard turned on Fish at the drop of a hat, plus Falcone had ordered him killed, the cop told you that much. Falcone would be stupid to keep him, and we both know that old man ain’t stupid.”   
Maroni stood in his office at the restaurant, his hands gripping the leather chair behind it with such force that it creaked loudly, “I have to wonder how much of what spilled out his mouth was true, or if everything he ever told me was lies. He came back from the dead once; I wanna make sure he doesn’t this time.”   
His thug shook his head, “No way boss; this guy’s gotta be runnin’ for the hills if he’s got any sense. He knows enough to know that you don’t cross, well, you and live without serious protection, which he don’t have.”   
Maroni stood up a little taller, nodding, “Yeah, I just…”   
The loud sound of argument could be heard then from the next room and Maroni gestured to his henchman, “Go check it out.”   
The man nodded and left, leaving Maroni to his thoughts for a moment. He supposed he would have to shelf his issues with the annoyance Penguin posed and focus on the present. He started to head around the desk to see for himself what was causing the racket outside and drew up short.   
Oswald smiled at him as he pulled back the hammer of the gun he pointed at Maroni, “Hello again. I’m afraid that noise out there is the sound of the police barging in, so I don’t have much time to chat, sorry.”   
Maroni saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger and he did his best to look calm as he smiled at Cobblepot; a skill he had nearly perfected in his line of work, “Tell that to my man behind you.”   
Penguin whipped his head to look behind him before realizing he had just fallen for the oldest trick in the book, perhaps due to his last engagement with Maroni ending so poorly because he hadn’t been bluffing.   
This time he was, though, and even as Oswald noted the empty air Maroni lunged, grabbing the gun with one hand and smashing his fist into the smaller man’s face with the other.   
Oswald went down hard, seeing stars as the edges of his perception became a bit fuzzy from the blunt force trauma to his head. Maroni ripped the gun free from his hand and it went off as he did so, the bullet flying harmlessly into the wall behind them.   
Maroni quickly turned the weapon to point it at Oswald, “You little shit! It’s about time you got what was coming to you!”   
Oswald raised his hands up as he begged, “Wait!”   
Another voice boomed suddenly across the room, “Freeze!” Maroni glanced over to see Jim and several other cops coming around the corner, guns leveled on him, “Put it down or I shoot.”   
The crime boss swore vehemently but lowered his gun, throwing it on the floor beside him, “This little punk just tried to kill me; I was only defending myself.”   
Jim glared at Oswald and the small man gave him an apologetic look, “He’s under arrest too, but either way we’re here to arrest you for a slew of charges, Don Maroni; I’m sure you knew this was coming some day.”  
Maroni gave him a stiff smile, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about; I run a perfectly legitimate business here…”   
Jim motioned to the other police, “Cuff him and read him his rights…” he moved over to Oswald, and stared at him pointedly as they did so, “he’s in a whole heap of trouble.”   
**********  
Oswald frowned deeply as he sat in the small holding cell. This particular cell was walled on all sides with only a small barred window on the door to allow police to look inside. It was generally only used for isolation as punishment for inmates of the precincts small jail that were too rowdy, but in Penguin’s case it was to keep him from Maroni and the others for his own protection.   
Things couldn’t have gone worse; now not only did he fail to kill Maroni, which was likely a death sentence from Falcone, but Maroni himself would be out soon enough to see him dead personally.   
Everything had worked beautifully, and the boss’ thugs had all rallied to the front of the restaurant when the cops showed up in force, allowing him to slip into the back unseen. Maroni had been where he had been hoping to find him, didn’t have any guards, and was unarmed.   
Oswald slapped his palm to his forehead over and over again. How could he have been so stupid… a ‘look out behind you’ trick? There was no way he should keep falling for Maroni’s tired old ploys, he was cleverer than that!   
The metal door to his small room suddenly creaked open and he jumped. He relaxed visibly when he saw that it was Jim, “Detective, I understand that you are upset with my attempt on Marnoni’s life, but I assure you that I had no…”   
Gordon held a finger up, silencing him with a look. He shut the door behind him and walked calmly over to Oswald, who backed up until he bumped into the close wall. Jim wordlessly sat on the single bench located there and deftly wrenched Oswald by his arm so that he was over his lap.   
Cobblepot’s eyes were wide as saucers as he looked back over his shoulder dumbly at the detective, his half-hearted attempts to flail free crushed immediately under the force of Jim’s efforts, “Wha… wait… here?!”   
Jim secured him tightly to his lap and grunted acknowledgement as he quickly ripped Oswald’s pants down so that they no longer protected his pale white buttocks. Penguin made a mewling sound of protest just before he began bringing his hand down sharply on him.   
This time was far more brutal than before and Oswald worked ultra-hard not to cry out; he was already a dead man, but his fear of discovery in this position still terrified him, especially concerning Maroni, “P-please,” he whispered, “Not here!”   
Jim only glared at him for a moment, Oswald taking a moment to breath as he paused, then began to whack him even harder and faster as he spoke, “You’re right, but I want to give you a taste of what you have coming to you once I manage to get you out of here, you asshole.”   
Oswald let slip a few muffled moans of pain as he kicked his legs and flung his arms in rhythm to the beat that Jim applied, and then he stopped as suddenly as he had begun. He simply stood, pushing Penguin off onto the bench as he moved quickly to the door, and he was gone again.   
As Oswald lay there trying to pull his pants back up over his fresh new welts, he wasn’t sure whether he was happy that Jim had just told him that he was going to see him free of the jail, or if he was terrified of the detective’s plan for what came next…  
Oswald was made to wait in that small cell a while longer, each minute that ticked by feeling like an eternity as he continued to consider all of the awful potential futures that awaited him.   
After a while though, detective Bullock opened his door and glared in at him, “Alright, bird-brain, as much as it pains me, I’m supposed to let you go and tell you to go directly to Jim’s place if you wanna not die for all the scum-bag things you’ve done.”   
Penguin just blinked at him a moment before giving him a nervous smile and shuffling out of the cramped cell, “I appreciate it detective…”   
Bullock held up a hand and shook his head, “Don’t thank me; given a choice I’d have put you in the cage with the rest of them.”   
Cobblepot frowned at the man’s overt hostility but decided not to let it get him down, being hunted by two crime bosses would be enough to worry about, “I’ll just gather my things…”   
Bullock shoved him toward the precinct back door that led out to the garage, “Your stuff is at Jim’s apartment. Get going, you don’t have a lot of time if you know what I mean.”   
A thrill of fear ran down Oswald’s spine. Had they already let Maroni out? He began to hobble as quickly as he could in the direction indicated. There were other places he could try hiding, but one of his enemies would eventually find him if he simply hid.   
Oswald didn’t like the idea of what Gordon had promised back in the station, but if he was to have any hope of rising from this latest catastrophe, Jim was the only ally he really had left. He would just have to make the man see reason…   
Jim found Oswald on the steps to his apartment a few hours later. The detective glanced both ways down the street and then nodded to him, “Get inside.”   
Penguin hobbled past the door, his face plastered with a smile despite everything he had been through, “I do thank you for all you’ve done to protect me detective, but next time please send a car…”   
Gordon frowned at him, “Sore feet are the least of your problems if anyone realizes I’m harboring you. Come this way, I have a few questions we need to sort out, and there’s not much time.”   
Cobblepot frowned in turn, worried about ‘questioning’ that had happened recently between them, “Please feel free to pick my brain, I am more than happy to tell you anything you’d like to know; it’s the least I can do for getting me out of there…”   
Jim sat down on the living room couch, patting his leg and gesturing that Oswald should come over, “You know the routine.”   
Oswald froze, sputtering, “N-no I certainly do not!” His hands reflexively reached back to cover his still sore posterior, “Detective, we certainly can’t be making anything like a ‘routine’ with something like that, it’s very unhealthy and pointless, since I’ll gladly tell you whatever…”   
Gordon only shook his head, “No. You lay over my lap and show me that you can own your mistakes, or I’m not going to continue sticking my neck out for a man who just lied to me and tried to use me to murder another man.”   
Penguin stood there for several long moments, his jaw working as he tried to think of what to say, but what was there to say? Jim wasn’t going to be convinced of anything less than his obvious betrayal, “James, please, I’ve made mistakes but even I know when it’s time to take a hint and straighten out… I’ve seen the proverbial light so to speak… all that time reflecting on my possible death has…”   
The detective sighed and shook his head, “I’m not buying it. This is an ultimatum, Cobblepot; do what I say or watch out for the door on the way out.”   
Oswald felt stuck between a rock and a hard place; this was his last chance at recovery as a gangster not to mention possibly his best prospects of survival, but knowing what Jim intended to do to him left him more than a little hesitant.   
After another long silence he spoke again in a small voice, pleading, “Is there no other way I can convince you of my good will? Surely you can find some compassion for such a desperate man?”   
Jim stared at him, “This is compassion, Cobblepot. I’ve chosen to treat you like the child you are rather than leave you to face the consequences of your actions like a man, which would invariably lead to your death.”   
Penguin gulped. This wasn’t fair… reluctantly and very slowly he moved over towards Gordon, “You know I can’t leave, James. Please, you know I would do anything to get out of this, please believe I will tell you the truth?”  
Jim shrugged, “Perhaps. Either way, I told you back at the precinct that this was going to happen; you’re not trying to make a liar out of me, are you?”   
To his great embarrassment, Oswald felt tears watering his eyes, “Please, I’m still sore from before… let me rest a bit?”   
Jim watched Oswald shift from foot to foot, his hands clutching his bottom for a bit before finally nodding slowly, “Alright, I’ll let you have a little reprieve, but waiting isn’t going to make it any easier on you.”   
Penguin let out an audible sigh of relief as Jim pointed back to another room, “I’ve put your things they took from you at the station in that room; that’s where you’ll be staying until we can sort all of this out.”   
Cobblepot kneaded his hands together as he gave Jim a very appreciative look, “What were those questions you wanted answered; you said time was running out, I will happily answer them.”   
Gordon shook his head, “We’ll address that later, when I’ll know for sure you’re telling me the truth. Go enjoy your break; like you said I haven’t got all day, so it won’t be that long.”   
Oswald felt a thrill of fear at that statement and he hurriedly moved to the indicated room, as if getting out of Jim’s sight immediately might somehow relieve him of what came next. He shut the door behind him, taking in the Spartan features of the small guest room.   
As promised, the few possessions (minus his gun) that Oswald had on him when he was arrested were all sitting on the small dresser that the room sported. He sat on the bed, wincing as the momentarily forgotten bruises on his backside reminded him of their presence.   
Penguin rolled onto his stomach, realizing that Jim was right the more time that passed. Waiting for Gordon to come in and punish him was a special kind of punishment in and of itself. He tried to distract himself thinking about how he might now deal with his other large problems in life, but the knowledge of what loomed closest kept dominating his mind.   
In fact, he was becoming so paranoid of Jim’s next visit that he wondered a few times if it wouldn’t just be easier to go back out into the living room and tell Gordon to get it over with. He wasn’t able to work up the nerve, though, which only continued to perpetuate the cycle of apprehension.   
When the door knob finally turned and Jim entered the room, Oswald felt as though his heart had leapt into his mouth, and was unable to speak so mortified did he feel all the way up until the point where the detective sat on the bed, patting his leg again, “I’m sorry James, I just… can’t”.   
Jim sighed and reached across the short space between them, grabbing hold of Oswald’s hand and yanking the smaller man over into his lap. In a rather embarrassing display that Oswald knew couldn’t help his case concerning maturity Cobblepot began to scream in terror and flail both his arms and legs against Jim.   
Gordon grunted in effort as he had to work hard to contain the scrappy young man for a few moments until he could finally get enough of a hold to pin him down, “I told you this was just going to get you worked up. Maybe now you’ll start listening to me more.”   
Once made helpless Oswald screamed pathetically for release, “Please don’t, I don’t have the constitution for this sort of thing; please I’ll do anything!”   
Jim replied quickly, “You’ll live, and if your this cooperative now I’m sure you’ll really open up after a good few licks with this.” As he spoke the detective removed his belt and doubled it over in his hand.   
Oswald’s eyes widened at the sight of the leather implement and the threat it posed, “No! Please, oh god ah! Ah!” He cried out, his sentence broken by the sensation of Gordon pulling his pants back, followed by the excruciating sting of leather on naked flesh.   
He begged whined and cajoled, but the detective soundly ignored him as he continued to resolutely bring his belt down again and again on Oswald’s wriggling form. This continued for a short while before Penguin was reduced to very real tears, crying and sobbing as he pleaded.   
After a long silence and a litany of resounding swats filled the room with a chorus of Cobblepot’s screams, cries, and moans Jim finally spoke again, “The chief has given me until morning to get her something solid to keep Maroni in there. The first thing you’re going to do to set this right is to fulfill your promise to give me that evidence.”   
Oswald screamed, “D-done! Y-you didn’t have to do this; I would have gotten you that a-anyway…”   
Gordon nodded, “Maybe, but you still deserve this. Glad to know that you weren’t lying about having what it would take, but I’m disappointed that you were going to kill the man instead of putting him in prison where he belongs.”   
Penguin twisted in a special kind of agony as Jim continued to slap him with the leather strip, “O-okay, I’m s-sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner, b-but I’m going to now… p-please let me up!”   
Jim frowned down at Oswald as the other man looked up at him pitiably, “I just told you how disappointed I am, but I think ‘this’ is the best way to get the message across with you. Every time you consider murder a viable option to solve a problem I want you to think of this moment.”   
Oswald cried out loudly as the punishment continued unabated for a while afterward. Only when it seemed that Gordon was growing tired from the effort of swatting him did he slow to a stop, “Consider that incentive, Cobblepot.”   
For his part, Penguin didn’t respond, his face buried in the bed as his body was still overtaken with wracking sobs. Jim stood and after watching Oswald cry a moment, he awkwardly helped him get his pants up, then patted his shoulder, “You’ll be fine… I hope.”   
After that he turned, leaving the room and allowing Oswald to cry quietly to himself.   
Oswald woke with a start. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep the night before, but at some point in the misery Jim had left him to he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He made a face as he moved on the bed; his buttocks felt very sore from the previous night’s ministrations.   
He threw his feet over the side of the bed and started to stand but then froze. An odd weight pulled at his foot and when he glanced down he saw a circular metal object wrapped around his ankle, “What?”   
Gordon’s voice caused him to glance back up as the other man entered the room, “It’s a monitor anklet; it’ll keep you from running off. I managed to get one from the station last night. I have you here because I don’t want to see you get killed, Oswald but I’m still a cop. For attempted murder I have placed you under house arrest, Mr. Cobblepot. Enjoy your stay.”   
Jim threw him and apple and Oswald stared dumbly after him as the man walked away. He had thought each of his incidents with Gordon to be singular, but suddenly we was starting to feel like he had somehow become tied to the man in a nightmare he could never escape…


End file.
